


put color in your cheeks

by CherryIce



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Porn IS the plot, Rimming, Shower Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, seriously so much porn, so many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 19:23:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16248215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryIce/pseuds/CherryIce
Summary: “I can’t help it if you spend so much time copulating,” Cas says when Dean tries to bring up the fact that Cas keeps showing up while Dean and Benny are having sex.(Or: Cas, what are you doing?)





	put color in your cheeks

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. This is a fic that happened.
> 
> Title from The Mountain Goat's "Color in your cheeks"
> 
> Vaguely inspired by [Wayfinding](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14407302?view_full_work=true), but really only in that Benny and Dean are together, and everyone is alive and exhibiting slightly better mental health. This is not a sequel to it by any means - Wayfinding does have a sequel coming, but that's 100% fluff and nice things (and Dean/Benny only), whereas this is 100% porn and feelings and threesomes.
> 
> Many thanks to sweetestdrain for beta and helping me make this a better story.

"Hello, Dean," Cas says, suddenly, fluttering out of thin air and into the kitchen.

Dean blinks. Braces his hands against the wooden edge of the kitchen table he's sitting at. "Not really a good time," he finally gets out between clenched teeth. His muscles tense in time with his jaw. Benny runs a soothing hand along Dean's denim-clad thigh, rests soft at his knee, which actually doesn't do anything to settle his flexing thighs.

Cas tilts his head at Dean, at what Dean knows has to be his flushed cheeks and hazy eyes and the slightly- swollen jut of his lower lip. Dean groans in various overlapping kinds of frustration and tries not to let his head drop back to the chair. Cas's mouth is a moue of consternation, Dean thinks. Cas blinks, eyes clearing and mouth twisting differently. "Ah," he says. "Dean, you can receive oral sex at any time. I need to speak with you now."

" _Cas_ ," Dean growls. Benny does that thing with his tongue that he can only really manage because he doesn't need to breathe and has no gag reflex, and Dean's hips buck up without his permission and Benny just rides it out. "Cas, DO YOU MIND."

"Not at all," Cas says.

"Good," Dean says, because Benny hasn't let off since Cas poofed out of nowhere. He lets his eyes drift shut and one hand drop from the table edge to cradle the short hairs at the base of Benny's skull in soft encouragement.

"I can wait," Cas finishes, settling back against the kitchen cupboard and crossing his arms and looking no more awkwardly out of place than he does when Dean's cooking.

Dean starts to say something about it, he does, but Benny squeezes his knee reassuringly before sliding his hands up Dean's thighs to wrap around his hips, encouraging him to fuck up into his face. Cas stays there across from Dean, looking absently over Dean's shoulder and around the kitchen and staring deep into Dean's eyes as Dean shudders and comes undone in Benny's mouth.

"Now," Cas says, as Dean's heart begins to slow, as Dean uncurls one hand from around the table edge, as Dean rubs the other hand softly up and down the back of Benny's neck. "The demigod in Montana," Cas says as Benny drops a kiss to the plane of Dean's stomach, just beside his spent dick, and carefully tucks him back into his pants. Benny casually climbs out from under the table, looking smug and wiping his mouth, and Cas is still going on about bifurcating trees and other omens.

"Right," Dean says, to whatever Cas is saying because Cas is looking at him expectantly, like Cas is expecting Dean to respond like his brain didn't just get sucked out through his dick. What follows is the most surreally mundane conversation Dean's ever had as Benny putters around the kitchen, looking pleased with himself. "There's a microbrewery out that way Sam's been meaning to try," Dean tells Cas, watching as Benny pulls a beer out of the fridge, making long, careful eye contact with Dean as he wraps his mouth around the neck of the bottle and tilts his head back to drink.

*

"So apparently," Dean says, afterwards. "I have a bit of an exhibitionist kick."

"You don't say," Benny laughs. Presses his palm to the swell of his still half-hard dick visible through his trousers and quirks his eyebrow at Dean.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Dean says, but he's smiling as he pins Benny to the counter and pops the button on his pants.

*

Dean runs hot after a hunt that goes well, in a way he thinks he should probably feel guilty about. Hyper-aware of his own body, running on adrenaline and victory and the rush of being _alive_. And if Benny's there, grinning broadly at him, well. That rush can turn in a very specific way. Dean's always had a thing for people who are good at what they do, and Benny was very very good at this even before surviving half a century of monster Thunderdome. Sometimes they make it back to the motel, or they make it back to the Impala, but sometimes, well -

The next time Cas flutters in on them they're pressed up against the wall of the deserted warehouse, still mostly dressed, their cocks out and grinding together, wet with precome. Dean has one hand wrapped around Benny's wrist, pulling his hand in so that he can aggressively deepthroat two of Benny's thick fingers. Benny is letting out shattered, rough gasps, forehead pressed to Dean's collarbone and his other hand braced on the brick wall behind them, rolling his hips into the hand Dean is using to keep their dicks together. Well, to mostly keep their dicks together, because Benny is huge and Dean's no fucking slouch in that department either.

Dean sees Cas over Benny's shoulder, can't really talk around the fingers in his mouth, but makes a gesture with his eyes that he's pretty sure communicates 'fuck right off,' right before he lets them flutter closed. He works his tongue around Benny's thick, familiar fingers, tightening his grip on Benny's wrist to fuck them in and out of his mouth. He lets go of his own dick to jack at Benny's alone until Benny turns his face from Dean's shoulder and into his own forearm and growls, coming so hard his teeth pop and he tears into the heavy wool of his jacket.

Dean pets Benny's hip comfortingly as he gives Benny's fingers one last, lingering suck and lets them slide from his mouth with an obscene pop. Benny shifts, pressing Dean more firmly into the wall, mouthing messily at the bolt of Dean's jaw, body instinctively gasping for air he doesn't need anymore. Dean's hips roll, looking for purchase. Benny's too fucked out to do much, but he moves so that Dean can ride against his sturdy thigh, works his spit-slick hand into the back of Dean's pants and presses his fingers against the furl of Dean's hole. He doesn't press inside but leaves them there, circling, so Dean can rock back and forth between the teasing pressure there and grinding against Benny's thigh.

It doesn't take long.

"Jesus Christ!" Dean snarls when he's come down, when he opens his eyes and Cas is still there. He doesn't know why he's surprised.

*

The thing is, it keeps happening. If they're at home or on the road or in the bunker, or that one time they had the car parked, Dean's knuckles white on the steering wheel and Benny with his head in Dean's lap and his hand in his own pants and Dean looked into the rearview mirror only to find Cas staring at him from the backseat.

"I can't help it if you spend so much of your time copulating," Cas says when Dean tries to bring it up, and Dean can't really do anything but shrug in response.

"You know - you know sex is usually private, right?" Dean asks, almost desperately.

"That's a taboo common only amongst the human species, and isn't universal even then," Cas replies, and starts talking about kink communities and the mating habits of various hominid species, and Benny buries his head into Dean's shoulder to muffle his laughter. They're not even having sex this time. They were just - making out, Dean straddling Benny's lap in an overstuffed chair. It feels almost more intimate.

"Uh huh," Dean says, settling more comfortably on Benny's lap and wrapping his arms around Benny's broad shoulders as they shake with laughter, and waits for Cas to get around to whatever he came to tell them in the first place.

"You trying to steal my man?" Benny asks eventually, all affected Bronx accent, and Dean knew that Kevin introducing Benny to Real Housewives was going to come back to bite them someday. 

Cas pauses in his diatribe, and he looks - a little stricken, a little wild around the eyes. "I have nothing but respect for the bond the two of you have formed," he says, and looks like he's about to keep going when Dean interrupts him with a loud groan.

"Benny was joking," Dean says, and shoves his hand over Benny's mouth, shifting his weight to push him back into the cushions. "Wasn't he?"

Benny licks the palm Dean has slapped over his mouth, like that's gross enough to make Dean let go instinctively, but Benny also tilts his head in silent apology so Dean removes his hand. "I ain't worried," Benny says. He's looking at Cas, but his hands are on Dean's hips, one hand gently bracketing the turn of his hip bone, the other curled into Dean's belt loops. "I got faith."

So, yeah, it's a little weird, but at the end of the day - if Cas doesn't care and it doesn't bother Benny and it doesn't bother Dean, it's probably more normal than the fact that one of them is a vampire and the other's an angel and Dean is - Dean. (And Dean, Dean grew up and went through puberty in shared hotel rooms and motel rooms and cars and empty houses, has spent near his entire life without the expectation of privacy.)

("Yeah, sure," Charlie says, baffled, when he explains this to her, because he needs to talk to SOMEONE. "If it makes you feel better, this all sounds totally normal," she says, dodging to the side as the werewolf throws himself at her. "If you give me any details about anyone's dangly man-bits, I'm going to let Fido eat your face.")

*

"Been thinking we deserve a few days off," Benny says. Dean blinks in confusion, but Sam agrees and says he has everything covered and Charlie funnels them some money from the Super PAC of some homophobic asshole politician, so Dean shrugs and lets Benny book them in at some fancy-ass, froufrou hotel with a rooftop pool and a balcony that looks out over the ocean. The bed is the most comfortable thing Dean's ever slept or fucked in and the room service is divine, so Dean - yeah, Dean's not entirely opposed to the entire thing.

The ocean breeze drifts in through the screen door, lightly ruffling the sheer curtains pulled back. It's a full moon, light bright enough to cast shadows, so the room is all silvers and deep blues and Dean is feeling almost poetic about how it catches the scruff of silver threaded through Benny's beard and the intense blue of his eyes as he stares up at Dean with something like wonder. "Love you," Dean says, because he's feeling sappy, "love you," he says again, softer, shifting his weight to where he has Benny's hands pinned above his head, bearing him deeper into the king-sized mattress.

"Je t'adore," Benny says, and "je t'aime," and "je t'aime pour toujours," swallowing Dean's breath as he brings their mouths together, searching. Benny curls his fingers around the headboard where Dean has placed them, tangling their fingers and squeezing before he lets go.

Dean loves it when Benny lets Dean hold him in place, like Benny couldn't break Dean's grip and have him up against the wall or under him in the blink of an eye. He'll stay where Dean puts him (when Dean wants to put him there) even when he's gasping for it, begging for it, until Dean releases him. And Dean - Dean can go harder, if he wants to, sometimes, go harder than he would with anyone else because he's not going to hurt Benny, and he trusts that Benny will say something if anything ever goes wrong or he feels uncomfortable.

And other times - yeah, Dean's perfectly happy to just - to let Benny take care of him. To let Benny pin him down or tie him up, to let Benny's solid weight bear him into the mattress, or to let Benny's hands tangle in his hair or softly cradle the bones of his skull and show Dean exactly where he wants his mouth. Sometimes Benny'll fuck him so hard Dean walks funny for days, but a lot of the time he prefers slow and intense, leaving deliberate, decorative bruises on unexpected areas of his body and a low, sweet ache that follows Dean around. (Sometimes Benny leaves soft emotional aches as well, fucking or riding Dean slow like molasses, face to face, whispering praise and sweet nothings against Dean's lips and jaw and kissing away the water that doesn't form at the corner of Dean's eyes.)

Tonight, though, Benny's hands flex but stay where Dean puts them, throat opening up in a loud groan as Dean, still straddling his body, settles back and reaches behind himself. Dean works two fingers easily into his lubed hole, twisting them a little more than necessary so they make wet noises to echo in Benny's enhanced hearing. Benny's hips roll under Dean and Dean rides it out as the room fills with a pained groan. "Dean," Benny says, and "please," and "god, look at you." He's not begging, not quite, not like he does if Dean makes him watch as his own fingers disappear into his hole and Benny can't touch or get his tongue in there, but that's not what this is about.

Dean slides a third finger in, checking, huffing at the stretch, before he finds Benny's dick and works it slowly a couple of times to spread lube from his fingers across it. Dean lines them up and then just hovers there, teasing the head of Benny's cock against his hole, before he takes a deep breath and sinks down onto it. He pauses, breathing hard, when the head of it is inside of him, getting used to the stretch. His left hand is braced on Benny's chest, tensing and relaxing in the dusting of hair there, and his right is still on Benny's shaft, running up and down it from the base to where Dean's hole is stretched impossibly wide. Dean feels almost feverish, his fingers playing along the velvety hardness of Benny's dick, Benny's lower body temperature making him feel almost like iron, like cool, animate, intricately-sculpted metal until he disappears into the tight, hot stretch of Dean's hole where it unfurls around him. Benny's pupils are blown and he's swearing in French and it's obviously taking everything in him to not thrust up into Dean before he's ready. Dean's grateful for it, mostly because Benny will absolutely stop this, stop everything, if he thinks that Dean is actually hurting himself.

"Okay," Dean says, and lowers himself down, down, down on quivering thighs until he's fully seated, Benny all the way inside him. Dean feels like he's riding out a storm, breathes through it as he welcomes Benny home inside him. "Okay," Dean repeats, rocking in place experimentally, the stretch retreating to the right side of painful. His dick, which had flagged to half mast, starts to perk up again as he lifts himself up and lets gravity slide him back down Benny's cock. "You good?" he asks Benny. Dean brings up his lube-covered hand and casually wipes it on the fur on Benny's chest.

"Really?" Benny asks, looking at Dean's hand with consternation, but gets distracted when Dean tweaks his nipples and circles his hips. Dean moves again, rising up until only the tip of Benny is inside of him, before dropping back down. He surges again and this time Benny's hips move with him, rolling up into him as he grinds back down, and like that they have a rhythm going. Dean's world narrows down to moonlight and ocean air and Benny, Benny inside him and Benny below him, surging, Benny's eyes sharp and bright and always, always on Dean. Dean braces his hands on Benny's chest for better leverage. Benny's gasping in French and Dean doesn't even know what's coming out of his own mouth. He's pretty sure it's embarrassing and sappy rather than dirty but his thoughts are syrup slow and overwhelming so he leans in close to Benny to slow them down, catching Benny's lip between his teeth and running his hands up the flexing muscles of Benny's arms as Benny strains to stay in place.

"God," Dean says, looking at Benny spread out before him in the moonlight, feeling the burn in his thighs and the glancing pressure against his prostate, "you're so good for me," he says, and he's not sure how he means it - if he's trying for dirty, if he means that Benny is being good for him, or if it's just general, that Benny in his life is good, but either way, Benny's hips surge up once, twice, three times, before he freezes and comes with a shout that's closer to a roar. Dean kisses his open mouth and the jut of his chin before he pushes himself back upright. Dean's close, he's so close, but he's not ready to be empty yet, so he rides out the abortive, involuntary movements Benny's using to work his hips up into Dean as he starts to soften. Dean arcs his back into it and braces on thighs about to give out, clenching as Benny whimpers, rolling his balls in one hand and stripping his hand up and down his cock until he comes with a shout all up Benny's torso.

"Uggggh," Dean says as his quivering muscles win out and he collapses forward onto Benny's chest. Dean can feel his own come between them, hot against Benny's cool skin. "Gross," he says, but just reaches up to catch Benny's hands in his and uncurl them from the headboard. He works soothingly at the muscles of Benny's hands and wrists and forearms, even though he knows Benny doesn't need it. If one of them doesn't get up to get a towel or a sock or something, they're going to regret it in the morning, but Dean just kisses Benny's knuckles and lets Benny roll them over so he's spooned behind Dean. It finally slips his cock out of Dean and Dean definitely doesn't whimper at the loss. Benny slips a couple of fingers into Dean, just resting, and nuzzles behind Dean's ear.

"Now that," Benny murmurs, when Dean's heart rate is finally starting to slow, "was something else."

"It certainly was," Cas says, and Dean doesn't jump but it's close. Cas is sitting on the couch across from them, skin silver and eyes cast midnight blue.

"What," Dean says, because he's pretty sure they're on vacation. Benny shifts his head so he can peer over Dean's neck at Cas. "Is it the end of the world again?" Dean asks. Benny starts to remove his fingers but Dean clenches a little bit to keep him there because this is their hotel room and he'll be damned if he's giving up this afterglow.

"No," Cas says.

"Then what," Dean growls, "was so important that you had to - "

Cas coughs. "You were being loud," he says.

Benny laughs, rumbling against his spine. Dean blinks. "And what -"

"You were about to get a noise complaint," Cas says. "I didn't want your vacation to be disrupted, so I provided soundproofing."

And there are just - there are so many places Dean wants to go with this, but what comes out is "I'm not that loud."

Benny and Cas snort simultaneously. Benny blows a raspberry against his neck. "Cher, you've got two settings. Silent and bullhorn."

"I thought it would be rude to leave without explaining," Cas says.

"Right," Dean says. "Because that's what most people would think was rude."

Benny shoves a pillow in Dean's face. "What he's trying to say," Benny says, exasperated and fond, "is thank you. That was mighty thoughtful of you."

"Right," Dean says, muffled through the feathers. When he bats it away, Cas is gone.

*

Things are - they're stable for a while, at least, because Charlie literally laughs in his face when he calls them normal. And Charlie's deal is this: he can give her details she doesn't necessarily want, because she's his friend, but for every in-depth conversation he owes her a LARP or a night out at a club of her choice that she gets to dress him for. The club thing he hates somewhere between a little and a lot, largely depending on whether she decides he needs to do stealth cosplay or cover him in glitter. (Benny ended up covered in glitter too because that shit is craft herpes, and, okay, Dean'll admit it cracked him up every time he saw Benny sparkling in the sunlight.)

The LARP thing he doesn't even pretend to be too cool for anymore. One time Charlie's talking about one with freaking *cowboy rebel elves* and Dean goes to open his mouth and she just looks at him, deadly serious, and says "If you say one word about Benny's dick I'm banning you. Just come to LARP." Dean, with Charlie staring at him steelily, decides that discretion is the better part of valor and nods silently.

It's not even like Cas shows up every time Dean and Benny are having sex. Because if he was - if he watched them every time - that, that would be weird. But he's just there sometimes.

"Right," Benny says, and "sure." He's sitting behind Dean on their bed. Dean is still fully dressed, sitting in the wide spread of Benny's thighs, facing the full-length, ornate mirror Sam had helped Dean find and haul back from some two-bit flea market. Dean was going to be circumspect about the entire thing but then Sam spent the entire time at the market and the drive back making fun of Dean's newfound appreciation for his own girlish figure, so Dean had Sam give him a hand to bring it in and deliberately set it up in the bedroom. He did his best to keep his expression straight as Sam's face slowly shifted between snickering and puce, and he stormed out of the house yelling about Dean making him pick out a sex mirror as Dean hit the floor laughing.

The point of which being that yes, they do have a sex mirror. A sex mirror that Sam picked out. "Sammy's sex mirror," Dean says, and laughs. Benny huffs against the base of Dean's skull but otherwise ignores him.

Dean's got two inches on Benny, but a lot of it is in his legs whereas Benny's long in the torso. It means that Benny sitting behind him can easily hook his chin over Dean's shoulder and get a good clear view of how Dean looks in the mirror, bracketed by Benny's broader frame. He meets the reflection of Dean's gaze and his pupils are already blown in want and anticipation, which means that Benny has a plan. (Benny has a sex list. An actual, hand-to-god paper list written in his weirdly ornate script, and he'd been so embarrassed when Dean found it, like Dean was going to judge him or something, but - "Awesome," Dean had said, and grabbed a pen.)

Benny slides his palm under the edge of Dean's shirt, smirking at him in the mirror as he does so. Benny's dressed nicely, has his shirt sleeves rolled up to expose the thickly corded muscles of his forearms. Benny leaves his hand there, resting against the softer-than-Dean-wants to admit turn of his stomach, until Dean rolls up into it. Benny bites his earlobe, keeps his eyes on the mirror. "Go on then, cher," he growls, close. "Put on a show."

"Oh, sure," Dean says. "Make me do all the work." He reaches over his shoulder to grab Benny's neck, pulls him forward enough to that he can twist to kiss him hungrily.

"Never said that," Benny says when Dean pulls back, using the hand low on Dean's stomach to encourage him back toward the mirror. Benny slides his hand slowly and deliberately upward, watching hungrily as the dark olive henley rucks up above it, exposing Dean's stomach, the curve of his pectorals, the dusky turn of his nipples, the lines of his tattoo. "Up," Benny finally says, like he's finally decided between the way the shirt frames Dean's chest and having him bare. Dean lifts his arms to pull his shirt over his head and everything goes dark for a moment. When he emerges, Benny's staring at him with such intensity and that Dean's eyes drift shut.

"Hey," Benny says. "Eyes open." There's a question in his voice, but Dean just nods his head in assent and slowly opens them. "Hey there," Benny says, and it's sweeter. He kisses the turn of Dean's jaw before his hands start moving again. He runs them along Dean's ribs and hips and thighs, then back up along his inner thigh to cup him through his pants. "God," Benny breathes. "You're exquisite."

Dean - Dean's been acting as sex bait since he was something like 15, and he knows what he looks like, okay. There's something different about the way that Benny looks at him, though, something that makes him hot and embarrassed. Benny works Dean's belt open and his fly down. He pulls Dean's dick out and shifts the elastic of his boxers so that it's stretched below Dean's balls and Dean's on full display. Dean's breath catches.

Dean settles back against the broad width of Benny's torso. He can feel Benny's dick tenting his pants. Benny seems completely unaware of his own erection, eyes in the mirror fixed on Dean, fixed on his own hands as he brackets Dean's hips, drags them up the turn of Dean's waist and the breadth of his ribcage, fingers flexing in time with the expansion of Dean's lungs. One hand drops to Dean's lap and he - he cradles Dean, almost, like Dean's something precious. Dean's eyes drift closed again and there's a hand on his nipple, flicking at the already-tight peak, and his eyes fly back open again.

"Keep your eyes open," Benny says. Growls. Softens his voice. "Merde," he breathes as he starts to work his hand on Dean's cock. It's slower than normal, hand moving deliberately and almost decoratively on Dean, pausing before the tip so that his hand frames the head, thumb running deliberately along the slit and gathering the precome leaking there. "Merde," Benny says, soft, intense. "Look at yourself. You're beautiful." His eyes come to rest on Dean's in the mirror. Dean's dart a bit, looking around the room, at himself, and Benny's blown pupils, searching for something it never manages to land on. It feels a little like that time Dean held Cas's gaze in the Impala's rearview mirror as Benny sucked him off. It feels a little like --

Benny's still talking. "Look at yourself. This is what I see every time you look at me." He twists his grip, gathers the precome from the head of Dean's dick, and runs his hand back up again. His other has abandoned Dean's nipple and he just has it pressed, solid, above Dean's heart. It's a steady pressure and Dean moves with it, feels the buttons of Benny's shirt along his spine. Benny moves his mouth close against the shell of Dean's ear. "This is what Cas sees when he looks at you," he says, hand continuing its slow, inextricable slide along Dean's dick. "Who could resist watching you?" he whispers, dirty and low, as Dean bucks up into him wildly. "Who could resist this?" Benny asks, and Dean's eyes slide closed again, hiding, picturing Cas hovering behind them, watching, eyes a darker blue than Benny's in the mirror. Benny's hand stops moving until Dean slowly, heavily blinks them open again and emerges from inside of his head to find the two of them alone. Benny keeps his hand moving, whispers filthy-sweet along Dean's jaw and ear and never takes his eyes off of him. It doesn't take much longer.

Orgasm-stupid, Dean keeps his heavy-lidded eyes open and soft-focused in the mirror as Benny ruts against Dean's back, working his dick along the small of Dean's back and the crack of his ass until his eyes rocket shut and he comes, stifling his cry into the meat of Dean's bare shoulder.

The point being is that it's not like Cas is there every single time they have sex. The other point being is that things are stable, at least.

Until the shower incident.

*

The shower at their place is big. It wasn't at first, but neither of them is exactly petite, and they - Dean raised on motel room water pressure, and Benny having gone half a century without indoor plumbing - thought it was worth the effort and the expense to put in a bigger one and they've never regretted it. (Okay, Dean regretted it a bit when he was trying to like - play naughty handyman at the same time as they were working and Dean dropped a pipe that split his toe open and he had to go drive himself to the hospital because he was bleeding through his shoe, but OTHER THAN THAT.) The point being that they've put in the literal blood, sweat, and tears and miscellaneous bodily fluids to have a shower they can enjoy, and they do.

Benny is weirdly obsessed with bubble baths, and Dean appreciates a long, hot soak when he's banged up, but it's far from the only use they get out of it.

The entire room is full of steam and heat, and Dean has his legs spread and his arms and forehead pressed to the cool tiles. The showerhead is running behind them, tilted down, mist and spray alternating soft and sharp against his skin. Benny's been eating him out for what feels like hours, hands holding his cheeks apart, occasionally slipping in a finger or the tip of his thumb in alongside his tongue. Dean's been rimmed by what he always thought were the best before, but he's never met anyone who can take him apart like Benny. And it's not just that Benny doesn't need to breathe. Benny loves this, loves eating him out, and there's this feedback loop, where yeah, Dean's getting off because Benny's a fucking maestro with his tongue, but also because of how much Benny loves it, and the more Dean's into it, the more Benny loves it.

Dean doesn't think he's ever been this loose before, this open. Sometimes Benny pulls back, starts mouthing along the inside of Dean's thighs, still holding his cheeks apart, while hot water hits his arched back and runs down to his open, fluttering hole. Dean's gasping "please" and "now" and "don't stop." His dick hangs heavy and painfully hard. He's never been more jealous of people in pornos who can come untouched, because he's rolling his hips into empty space and he needs something, anything. Benny's hands are on his ass and Dean's arms are shaking too much for him to pull one away from the wall to wrap around himself without faceplanting and risking a busted nose.

Dean's not sure he's ever been this hard for this long. He never really got people who said they felt like they were going to die if they didn't come. He gets it now, he gets it, gasping out profanity and prayers - praying _touch me_ and gasping _fuck, I need-_ and he thinks maybe he's burning up alive and his heart is going to stop when there's suddenly a hand on him. 

He has a half second where he thinks Benny finally took pity on him. There's one hand too many involved, he realizes as he looks, and it's Cas's hand around him, Cas's hand jacking his dick, and Dean comes so hard he thinks he blacks out. He comes all over the shower wall and all over Cas's hand and apparently he jerks enough in surprise that he shoots all over Cas's arm so that even where his trench coat isn't wet from reaching into the shower he's just covered in it.

"Shit," Dean says, and his legs go out from under him. Benny catches his weight easily, spinning him, and Cas slides his come-covered hand between Dean's head and the tile to stop the crack of bone and tile, stays with him as Dean collapses in slow motion. Somehow that seems more intimate to Dean, the way Cas's fingers cradle the base of his skull as Benny licks his way up the trails of come that the shower hasn't washed away, hand stripping so fast it blurs on his own dick. 

"Merde," Benny gasps into the curve of Dean's neck as he comes, his forehead braced against the wet fabric of Cas's wrist.

Dean's brain isn't working, and he lies in the bottom of the tub and sucks in overheated, steaming, sex-filled air, nuzzles against Benny's temple as the spray of water cascades down the muscles of Benny's back, and watches Cas as he carefully, slowly, retrieves his hand. Cas stands there for a second, two, fully dressed, face naked, right arm soaked with water, come still on his hand and all over his coat and, Christ, did Dean get some on his neck, before Cas coughs awkwardly and flies away.

What the fuck, Dean thinks.

*

After that, they have to talk about it. Dean's still boneless flopped at the back of the tub, so Benny runs it full and hot. They got the biggest soaker tub they could, but it's still a tight fit that's never going to exactly be comfortable. It feels weird and girly but Benny just - Benny likes cuddling there sometimes, with the hot water bringing his body temperature up - and, whatever, sometimes Dean's willing to put up with the tight positioning and the awkward splashing as their limbs align, especially after an orgasm like that leaving him boneless and pliable.

"Look," Benny says. He's plastered against Dean's front, fingers of their left hands tangled together just under the surface of the water. "I'm not a jealous guy. I'm okay with sharing."

Dean snorts, because even if he didn't know Benny likes to get his scent all up over him, Dean's relationships are not exactly known for healthy degrees of codependence. "Yeah, well I am pretty sure I'm prone to possessive behavior," he says, biting at the back of Benny's neck without intent, "and I'm not exactly Mr. Plays Nice With Others. The thought of some rando all up on you is -"

"I'm not talking 'open,'" Benny says. "I'm talking Cas."

Dean snorts again, because that sounds even more ludicrous to him, even if Benny and Cas get along better now that Cas doesn't think Benny's going to eat Dean and Benny doesn't just see Cas as some ex who keeps fucking off without explanation and endangering Dean.

"I'm not really sure what you'd get out of that," Dean says.

"Better than porn," Benny grins. "And I do so love to show you off. If you'd seen your face when you came, you'd understand."

Dean tries to keep his breathing flat and even, like he's never thought of it. Of Benny's beard scraping along the back of his spine and Cas's hot mouth working down his sternum. Of being caught between them while Benny growls in French and Cas gasps out adorations. If he were ten years younger, he's pretty sure his dick would be nudging at Benny's back in betrayal. Dean's a lot of things, he's a litany of things longer than he wants to think about, but he's not a cheat. Dean swallows. The air smells like - sandalwood and something clean underneath, because Benny likes weird shit like oil or salt in the bath water if there aren't any bubbles and, well, Dean's never gone a half-century without running water or deodorant, so damned if he's going to say anything. And not that Dean's ever cared about that stuff, but he likes that Benny likes to smell nice. (Dean wonders what Cas smells like, at the hollow of his throat or the shell of his ear, and his breath staggers again and his heart thumps.)

"Hey," Benny says. Shifts to the side a little, one leg braced on the tile for leverage and water rocking, so that he can turn his head to see Dean. "Mon coeur. Only if you -"

Dean squeezes Benny's hand and he stops talking. "Je t'aime," Dean says. "You know that you're not some kind of consolation prize," he says. Thinks about the years and years between him and Cas and it's true, Benny's not some also-ran, some fallback, but - Dean swallows, heavy. "You have to understand. Me and Cas. I don't think it could ever be just sex."

"Nah," Benny says. His tone is light but his eyes are serious and he strokes his thumb across the back of Dean's hand below the water. "It's going to be the same old starcrossed shit it is now, but with more orgasms for everyone."

*

"Cas," Dean prays. "You get your feathered ass down here. We're going to talk. And before you consider running out, remember this: you OWE me."

With a familiar flutter of wings, Cas is standing in their bedroom. They're in the bed, looking at him, and Cas's mouth opens in confusion. Benny's down to his undershirt and pants, shoulders propped up on pillows so he can watch the way Dean's running his fingers along the fabric over Benny's growing erection, almost absently. Cas is frozen. Dean grins at him, sitting on the mattress, looking right at Cas while he continues to let his fingers play over the hard length inside Benny's pants, absently, nothing on his face letting on that he knows he's doing it.

"I - I apologize?" Cas asks, looking at them in confusion. "I thought that Dean called -"

Dean grins, wry. "Oh, I did."

"I don't understand," Cas says, and Dean rolls his eyes because Cas has shown up when there was a violently purple sparkly dildo involved (the acquisition of which involved a bet, two witches, a not-actually-cursed sex shop, and Sam being a jerk going horribly wrong for him and wonderfully right for Dean and Benny) and if Dean actually needed any confirmation that Cas knew exactly what he was doing all along, the confusion on his face at the relatively innocent scene before him would be more than enough.

"It strikes me," Benny says, calm, like Dean isn't still absently trailing his fingers over the bulge in his pants, "that you've been missing out on something."

"Yeah, Cas," Dean says. "Here's the thing. You never fly in on me giving a blowjob."

Cas's throat visibly works. "I don't--"

Dean stops the motion of his hand to give Benny a quick squeeze through his pants. "Which, let me tell you, is a crying shame because I am an A-plus, award-winning cocksucker."

Benny's grin is wicked. 'He is not exaggerating.

Cas appears frozen. "I - I will take your word on that."

"Come on now," Benny says. "We all know you trust my word for jack."

"One way to find out for sure," Dean says. Pops the button on Benny's pants one-handed, feels a cool sweep of relief he got it right. "What do you say to that?"

"Yes," Cas says. Instantaneous. No hesitation. The rush of his wings fills the room and he is suddenly sitting on the bed beside them, face in close. Dean groans, because he and Benny had moved a chair into the bedroom earlier and placed it at what they eventually judged to be the best angle, but of course Cas is going to get up close and personal, the weirdo. 

And now that it's actually happening Dean feels his heart flutter a little with nerves. His hand curls reflexively around the waist of Benny's pants. What if he fucks up? What if this fucks up his friendship with Cas? What if this fucks him and Benny up?

Benny, clued in by the fluttering of Dean's heart or the fact he knows Dean so well, catches his free hand and brings it to his mouth, delicately kissing each of Dean's knuckles, pressing his lips to the inside of his wrist, and Dean exhales. Easy, each press of lips says. We've got this, his eyes say. 

Right. Dean brings his hand back, still feeling the phantom press of Benny's lips. He's still sitting on the edge of the bed, angled in towards Benny. He uncurls his other hand from the waistband of Benny's pants, shifting it to ruck up Benny's undershirt up his torso before he carefully and slowly undoes Benny's zipper. The teeth releasing seems suddenly loud. Benny's wearing briefs underneath but he's hard and he's big even when soft, the emerging swell of his dick helping speed the split of his zipper. Dean takes a second to appreciate the image before him. Benny's fly hangs wide open below the left-curved arc of his dick in his grey briefs, wet spot darkening around the tip. Dean, looking at Cas, braces his hand beside Benny's hip and leans in close to Benny's dick, stopping just short of it to exhale hot air along the length of it through the fabric. Benny, sensitive to even the suggestion of heat, twitches. A noise that isn't quite a groan escapes him. Dean winks at Cas, then dips his tongue deep into Benny's navel, takes his free hand and pushes Benny's undershirt further up, scratching through the fur on his chest. Benny shifts, curling up just enough to pull his shirt over the top of his head, and Dean moves with him, ending up with his chin hooked over the turn of Benny's hip and the hand that's not stabilizing him on the mattress slides up to Benny's pec. He grins and sharply tweaks a nipple. Benny groans.

"You haven't touched him yet," Cas says. His throat sounds dry. 

"He's touching me right now," Benny says, the last word devolving into a gasp as Dean tests the blunt edge of his thumbnail against his nipple.

"Foreplay, Cas," Dean says. Braces his left hand on Benny's hip instead of the mattress, close enough that Benny'll be able to feel the heat, and the right by the pillows, uses the leverage to swoop up and close his teeth around first one nipple, then the other. He uses his grip on Benny's hip to stop him from arcing up too much into it, gets a rush at the fact that Benny lets him. He worries at the nipple in his mouth again, sharp, presses an open-mouthed kiss to it to soothe, then draws back and blows cold air across it. Benny arcs into his grip again, arms coming up automatically. One hand wraps around the base of Dean's skull, the other flings out, searching for Dean's hand.

Cas makes a wounded noise and Dean turns to him with hot eyes. Normally, he and Benny would drag this out more. Dean likes to tease him, push him to the edge again and again and play off the erogenous zones that litter his body, but that's not what this is about. Benny runs his hand, fond, through Dean's hair and then releases him. Dean pulls back, sits up, pulls his shirts over his head but leaves his jeans, for now. "Make yourself comfortable," he tells Cas. In a literal flash, Cas loses the trench coat and suit jacket, leaving him sitting with one leg on the bed in his slacks and dress shirt, sleeves rolled up on his forearms, top button undone and tie askew. It's hitting all sorts of buttons that Dean only suspected he had.

Benny's hips roll into the air. Dean smirks at Cas. "I'm going to touch now," he says. Braces his hands on either side of Benny's broad hips and leans in close. The dark spot on his underwear has grown. Dean stops, for a second, like he's just going to breathe up Benny's dick again, but finishes the motion, jaw stretching so that he can mouth up the curve of his dick. He leaves a wet trail of fabric behind him, cooling quickly in contrast to where his mouth is pressed. He reaches the head, the fabric wet with precome, and he sucks at it, pulling first the salty-bitter fabric and then the entire head of Benny's dick into his mouth. He stays there for a little while, working wet and hot, molding the fabric to the head of Benny's dick so he can feel the mushroom head, the slit. When he pulls back, the briefs are wet and filthy. Dean reaches out and slowly peels them back. Benny's dick pops free with a wet smack, the solid weight of it curving up to his stomach. It leaves a wet trail. Benny's big, wide, uncut. Serious flare on the mushroom head of him. Dean shifts the elastic down farther, hooks it beneath his balls. Dean sucks each one into his mouth in turn, works them with his tongue and releases them with a slick pop of suction. Licks a stripe up from Benny's scrotum and along the heavy vein that runs along the bottom of his cock. Instead of sucking the head into his mouth, Dean drops it a quick kiss hello, pulls back as it twitches, leaving a wet streak behind. Benny's grinning down at him dopily. Cas is sitting frozen solid. 

"Better?" Dean asks. 

Cas blinks, works his mouth like he's looking for words. "Yes," he says, finally.

Dean reaches out to grab Benny by the belt loops. Gets his pants down and off with some cooperation. The briefs still cling wetly to his body and Dean takes his time with those, peeling them down slowly. Benny shifts back up on the bed, resettling himself on the pile of pillows so that he can easily see everything Dean's about to do. (Benny likes to watch, and Dean doesn't like to be on his knees with someone looming over him, so they've found a number of ways to compromise.)

Benny lets Dean shift him around, lets Dean push his legs wide so that he's open and exposed and Dean can crawl into the broad 'v' of them. Cas sways a little as he leans in closer. "Hi," Dean says, settling on his stomach, and proceeds to completely ignore the dick he's breathing on. He nuzzles into the crease at the join of Benny's hip, bites down along the tender flesh of his inner thighs. His hands tuck softly against the fine skin behind Benny's knees as Dean pushes his legs just that bit farther apart. Kisses Benny's knee as he looks up and admires the way his ass flexes with the stretch. Dean works his way back up Benny's other thigh, fingers scratching through the hair on his legs and dancing along the curve of his muscles, stopping to suck a dark mark into the top of his inner thigh. It won't stay, but Benny whimpers and arcs into it. Dean slides a hand up to rest on the tensing muscles of Benny's lower stomach, reminding him to keep the movement down. He curls the other, presses his knuckles against Benny's perineum. Dean bypasses Benny's twitching dick again to drop kisses to his hip, worry his stubble against the skin. Benny groans in disappointment.

"Dean," Cas says. 

Dean turns his head, resting the side of it against Benny's thigh so he can watch Cas speak.

"Dean," Cas says again. His fingers twitch. "I believe. I believe you should put his penis in your mouth now."

"Yeah?" Dean asks, feeling a warm swell of affection. "What about you, Benny? What do you think?"

Benny groans. "Always. You should always have my penis in your mouth."

"I thought I was more to you than a pretty pair of lips," Dean gasps, mock injured, as he wraps a hand around the base of Benny's twitching dick. Benny looks like he's trying to come up with some sort of retort, but Dean takes pity on him, leaning in. Out of the corner of Dean's eye, he sees Cas leaning in, too. Done with teasing, Dean wraps his mouth around the stretch of the head of Benny's dick and sinks down, down, until it bumps up against the back of his throat. He hums a little, pressing his tongue along the vein that runs along the bottom of it. Hollowing his cheeks, Dean starts to bob his head up and down, working his hand over the part of Benny that he can't reach. The other hand stays pressed low across Benny's abdomen, reminding him to keep his hips still. Dean takes a deep breath and readies himself, working his way down until Benny's dick pushes at the back of his throat, then Dean swallows around it and pushes down, down, down, until his nose is pressed into the neatly-trimmed thatch of hair.

Dean hears Cas make a noise like he's been punched in the stomach.

Dean works his way up and down a few more times, throat fluttering, until he starts to need air. He gasps a little as he pulls off. A string of spit and precome runs between his bottom lip and Benny's dick. Dean turns his head a little and he can see Cas's face right in close, eyes caught on the glittering strand. Dean puts his hand back around the base of Benny's dick and keeps working it as he leans in to wrap his lips around the head, flicks his tongue along the slit, works it along the frenulum. He pulls off with a pop as Benny's hands come to rest softly on him. Benny lets one hand run around the back of his head to cradle his neck. The other cups his cheek. Benny runs his thumb along Dean's swollen lips.

"You can touch, if you want," Dean tells Cas. His voice is rough. Dean turns into Benny's hand to suck his thumb into his mouth.

"Gentle, though," Benny says. Dean wants to roll his eyes, because he's a grown ass man who can look after himself, but instead he just bites gently at the joint of Benny's thumb. Cas is listening with very serious eyes. "No pushing," Benny says. "No holding his head down."

"Right," Cas says, and out of the corner of his eye, Dean can see him reaching out. A warm hand settles along his spine, spread wide between his shoulder blades. Another, white-knuckled, twists the sheets. After so long with Benny, Cas's palm feels like it's burning. Dean goes back to Benny's dick, working a hand up and down, twisting in the way he knows Benny likes, dropping open-mouthed kisses along it, stopping at the top to flick his tongue across the slit leaking precome. He pays special attention to the frenulum, working the give in his foreskin. Dean thinks that even without the difference in body temperature he'd be able to tell Cas and Benny's touch apart. Cas's face is still so close, eyes raking over Dean's face and eyes and the work of his throat.

Benny's hips start making familiar, abortive jerks, and he touches Dean's shoulder in warning. Dean wraps his lips around the fat head of Benny's dick again, hollowing out his cheeks and bobbing once, twice, before Benny's jerking and coming hard with a cry, filling Dean's mouth as he tries to swallow it all. Dean swallows most of it, lets some leak back down Benny's softening dick, keeps a bit of it in his mouth until Benny pulls him off and starts pawing weakly at him, drawing him up his body. Dean crawls up, ends up with his knees spread wide to straddle Benny's broad waist, curled over as Benny licks his own come out of Dean's mouth. It's only as Dean is balancing there that he realizes he's still wearing his jeans, regains awareness of his own dick being strangled inside. He's going to need to wash these jeans after all, he thinks somewhat hysterically, because he just crawled up the spit-sweat-come stickiness of Benny's body. He catches Benny's bottom lip in his teeth. Leans back to kiss his nose.

Cas still has a hand on Dean's back and Dean leans back into the warmth of it as he straightens out. It's like fireworks against his skin. He doesn't know if Cas is leaking grace or there's some profound bond shit or if it's just that Dean's just so goddamn turned on, but Dean chases the touch. Cas is so close, and Dean turns his head to catch his lips, tangling his fingers in Cas's hair as Dean grinds his denim-covered hips against the solid width of Benny's torso supporting him.

It's a good kiss, when Cas leans into it, tilts his head so their mouths slot together properly. A little inexperienced, but years and years of feelings, anger and joy and love and guilt and - Dean breaks for air, huffing a little, rests his head against Cas's shoulder. There's an undertone of metal to the scent of him, something silver flickering in Dean's lungs. Cas's other hand comes up to rest on Dean's shoulder, where his handprint used to be burned into his skin.

"Cas," Dean says, voice thick and rough and well-used. His lips are tingling and it's like that touch on his back, where he doesn't know if it's the almost-tickle excitement of touch you get from hovering so close to someone you can almost feel it, or if there's a trace of blue grace on his lips or if he's still feeling the stretch of Benny's dick.

Cas shudders at that, starts to pull back. Dean tightens his hand in his hair. "Dean," Cas says. "I'm sorry. I wasn't supposed to -"

Benny laughs. Dean, still straddling him, can feel it travel through his body. Dean pulls back from Cas, just a bit, and they both turn to look at Benny. "Hey," Benny says, conversationally. He has his arms crossed behind his head, watching them. "You're still taking my word on it."

Cas is looking back and forth between them, something like hope in his eyes. "You mean - "

Dean feels a laugh bubble up inside him. "Gotta try before you buy," he says.

"Dean," Cas says, and his voice is very serious. "I would never require a 'test drive,' if you were for sale. Not," he pauses. "That you are a commodity, or that I view you as -"

The laugh does bubble out of Dean then, and he pushes Cas back so that he bounces on the mattress. Cas's eyes flickering between Benny beside him and Dean straddling the other man. His mouth works. His Adam's apple bobs.

"Hi," Benny says, angling his head towards Cas and deliberately winding Cas's tie around his fist to reel him in slow, giving him time to react. Cas goes, willing, arms coming up to bracket Benny's shoulders as he kisses him. From Dean's viewpoint, still straddling Benny, he can't see much more than the play of muscles underneath Cas's shirt as he holds himself up on wide-braced arms. He sees it in his head though, because even he's not enough of a liar to pretend like he hasn't thought about it extensively. The muscles in Cas's shoulders work and Dean drops a hand to rub himself through his pants, lets the other one rest on the part of Cas's back closest to him. Cas breaks the kiss and drops his head, like the shadow of Dean's touch was enough to short his brain.

Benny unwinds his hand from Cas's tie and Cas rolls onto his back, face naked with want.

"Hi," Dean says, smugly, cockily, and shifts so that he's kneeling between Cas's sprawled legs. "Hey," he says, more softly, feeling his cheeks warm in the face of Cas's sober and naked want. "We good?" he asks, resting his hands softly on Cas's knees. The fabric of his pants is weirdly scratchy against Dean's palms, and that's a detail that makes this all more real, because for everything he's thought of or fantasized about over the years, somehow he missed this, that even after deaths and resurrections and the parade of time, that Cas's pants - that Jimmy's pants - would feel cheap and new against his skin. "We good?" Dean asks again, and Benny reaches across to tangle the fingers of his near hand with Dean's so their fingers intertwine above the jut of Cas's hip. Dean's other hand stays in place, running soothingly across Cas's kneecap and the flat plane where Cas's thigh meets his knee.

"Dean," Cas says. His pupils are blown and his dick tents his pants and his tie is askew. "I need to know. What is this, precisely? What are you offering?"

Dean inhales. Tightens his hand around Benny's. Exhales. "It's whatever you want it to be," he says, honest. "All you ever had to do was ask."

There's a pause then, and Cas looks - looks stricken and uncertain, looks gut-punched,  
and Dean wonders if he said the wrong thing, but then Cas's face opens up and he surges upright, a hurricane of hands and teeth, pulling Dean down to meet him and then crashing them back to the mattress. Their bodies slot easily together and Dean realizes distractedly that they're still wearing a truly surreal amount of clothing. Cas is wrapped around him and kissing him like he wants to live inside him. The way they fit together, the crush of their mouths, all feels familiar somehow, despite the fact that it couldn't. Cas's mouth is burning hot, his skin a sharp change from Benny's, and where Benny tastes human, Cas tastes just sideways of human, something silver-metallic lingering on Dean's tongue. There's another hand on Dean's arm, ghosting over where Cas is holding him tight. Cas's grasp loosens almost imperceptibly, just enough that blood flows again and Dean realizes he's going to have a bruise.

Dean breaks their mouths apart, eyes closed, forehead resting against Cas's and breathing jaggedly. Cas's breath comes in deep but even gasps because of course Dean's sleeping with two assholes whose relationship with oxygen is purely optional. "Anything," Dean says, heart pounding. His voice would be low with want even if it wasn't still rough from what he'll admit was a showoff of a blowjob. "You can have anything you want," Dean says again, eyes closed and forehead pressed hard against Cas's. "Everything is on the table. Everything but Benny. Benny's part of the deal. Benny's non-negotiable."

Dean feels the heavy weight of Benny's head pressed to his shoulder, the ghost of a gentle kiss to his shoulder blade. Dean opens his eyes. Cas is looking at him from as close as he's ever been, blue eyes intense and serious. "Of course," Cas says. "And 'everything.' I will take everything."

Dean kisses Cas again, short and sharp and joyous, then drops a kiss to the corner of his mouth and the dimple on his chin, just because he can. "Okay," he says, and feels a grin spread across his face.

"Then yes, we are 'good,'" Cas says, and Dean laughs. Benny chuckles too, head still pressed to Dean's shoulder, and Dean can feel it vibrating in his expanding chest.

"Right," Dean says, and "okay," pushing himself up so that he's sitting on his heels in between Cas's spread thighs. "Where was I?"

Benny smirks. "I believe you were about to give our friend here a demonstration of one of the most finely-honed of your God-given talents."

"Right," Dean says, and digs his fingers into the muscles of Cas's thighs through his pants, whistling a little at how firm they are. "Damn, Jimmy," Dean says, and slides his hands up Cas's thighs toward his fly. He licks his lips a little and eyes Cas up and down like a present he's been waiting to unwrap for years, fingers toying at his buttons, when there's an impatient fluttering of wings and Cas is suddenly naked before him.

Dean pouts a little, because he was looking forward to unwrapping Cas, taking his time to explore the surprisingly jacked physique emerging from beneath his layers. Cas is staring at him wildly and impatiently, and Benny sits up to nip the exposed jut of Dean's lip. "Next time," Benny says, his hand resting low on Dean's back as Dean sizes up the situation before him and shifts himself to lie between Cas's thighs. Dean digs his fingers into that pert ass, and he just kind of wants to leave hickeys all over Cas. He's looking forward to getting his hands (and mouth, and dick) on that ass.

"Hey," Benny says, one hand on Cas's hip, and he leans down to pull Dean into a kiss that's gentler and sweeter than it has any right to be, considering that Cas's dick is inches from their faces. Benny grins. "Now show that man what you can do."

"I am technically not a man," Cas says, like he's annoyed he's having this conversation at all, and Dean laughs fondly.

"Yeah, whatever, buddy. You still want me to suck your dick?" Dean asks, and a light bulb pops.

"Yes," Cas says, and "please," and "I believe you should put your mouth on me."

Part of Dean wants to take his time to explore, to get a feel for the textures and tastes of Cas's body, to find out what makes him swear and to make marks that will fade in no time at all, but Cas - Cas is already so close, moaning and twitching and cock wet with want, and Dean can tell it's not going to take much. "God, you have a pretty cock," Dean breathes against the plane of Cas's stomach without meaning to, licking the skin between the fingers of the hand Benny has splayed across Cas's hip.

"And - and you - you have a lovely soul," Cas gasps, abortive bucks of his hips restrained by the press of Benny's hand.

It's not going to take much at all and, well, Dean did promise Cas that he would blow his mind. He wraps his hand around the base of Cas's cock to stabilize it before he opens his mouth and swallows him down. The hand around the base of Cas slides easily in the mix of precome and spit and Dean jacks him as he bobs his head, keeping the suction high and his teeth covered. He pauses to work at the head of Cas's dick, getting used to the shape of it on his tongue. In the next downstroke, Dean flattens his hand and follows it all the way down until his nose hits the flat plane of Cas's stomach. Cas's hands are in his hair, scrabbling at the back of his skull, painfully tight for a second until they relax and gentle, a heavy weight ready to move with him. Dean stays there for as long as he can, swallowing, until the hands on the base of his skull gently encourage him upward.

Dean stops to work at Cas's frenulum and breathe through his nose. Cas is cut, curved, hot in Dean's mouth. Dean looks up at Cas through his eyelashes as he tongues at the slit of his dick and slips his hand down to cup his balls, teasing down along his perineum and along the crack of his ass before coming back up to press against that sweet spot behind his balls. Right before he sinks his head back down, Dean sees Cas's face just - open up, and then he's gasping and begging and slipping languages as Dean works him up and down. And that's a rush in and of itself, because how old is Cas, how much has he seen? And yet Dean can undo him like this.

"Dean," Cas gasps. "Dean," he says again, fingers flexing against Dean's neck. "I'm going to - " he says, frantically, and he stiffens and comes and yells in what Dean is pretty sure is Enochian.

Dean manages to swallow most of it. Cas's hands are on his face, gently cradling the bone of his jaw as Dean slowly pulls off, the come that Dean didn't manage to swallow leaking down the side of Cas's dick.

There's a moment, two, where they stare at each other, Cas cradling Dean's face above his spent dick, before Cas pulls Dean up his body and flips them so that Dean is cradled against Benny's chest where he leans against the headboard and Cas is crushed up against both of them. Cas is uncoordinated and hyperfocused on Dean, can't seem to stop kissing Dean and riding it out as Dean rolls up into him. Cas paws unsuccessfully at the button of Dean's jeans, and, christ, how is he still wearing pants? Benny nuzzles at Dean's neck and wraps his arms around his waist to pop the button of Dean's fly so that Cas can work his zipper down and shove his hand inside.

Dean lets out what definitely isn't a mewl at the first hot touch of Cas's hand. His own desire has been a background hum in his brain and he doesn't realize until Cas has a hand on him how close he is to going over the edge. The steady, familiar warm of Benny's affection and Cas's laser focus is overwhelming.

"I want to SEE," Cas says, hand working in Dean's underwear, and then Dean is suddenly completely naked, and he groans and rolls his hips into Cas's hand, lets his legs fall open wide. Dean reaches back over his head to grab at Benny's neck and pull him in as close as possible, and Benny runs his hands across the softer skin of Dean's inner thighs. Cas lets out a noise like he's been punched, and okay, Dean knows the type of picture he presents right now, because of that time in front of the mirror, Benny whispering filthy-sweet in his ear and biting at his neck every time Dean's eyes drifted closed. Cas's eyes are burning through him and Dean remembers that this is a man who built him back up from component atoms, who carried his soul the way Dean carried Benny's.

Cas is back on them in a flash, and Dean - Dean is cradled against Benny's chest and Cas is working him and drinking up his cries with his mouth, one of Dean's hands tangled in Cas's hair, Cas's hair that's always been perpetually long enough to get a bit of a grasp on (not that Dean's thought about that except for the times he totally has) and Benny is wrapped all around him and holding him open -

"I love you," Cas says, and Dean comes so hard he sees stars.

Dean, breathless, boneless, flows into the steady support of Benny's arms and tries to remember how his limbs work. Benny nuzzles along Dean's neck, lips moving without intent. Cas shifts onto his knees, brings up his hand, covered in Dean's come, and carefully considers it. His tongue darts out to touch it before deliberately licking his hand clean. Dean's dick twitches uselessly. Benny reaches out to grab Cas by the back of his neck and they make out across Dean's shoulder until Cas pulls back with a gasp. Benny looks smug and licks his lips, Cas looks floored, and Dean belatedly realizes that Benny was licking Dean out of Cas's mouth. Dean reaches out weakly to paw at Cas's shoulder and bring him back in for another kiss.

It's less heated this time, borderline sloppy with fatigue, and Dean smiles into the soft familiarity of it. When they break apart, their faces hover inches away from each other's, and Dean wonders how many times they've faced off like this, inches apart, unmoving, uncertain what the other wanted. They were so freaking dumb, Dean thinks, but he doesn't regret it, doesn't regret a single missed opportunity, because then he never would have gotten to have this. Never would have gotten to have Benny. Never would have gotten to have both of them, not like this. Dean grins and kisses the corner of Cas's mouth before he lets all his weight flop back against Benny. With a practiced motion, Benny rolls himself and Dean so that they're lying down on the mattress instead of propped against the headboard. Cas, still straddling them, follows Benny's motion and hits the mattress with a bounce. Benny smirks against the back of Dean's neck. There's a second where Cas lies there with his head on the pillow and unblinking eyes on Dean, on Benny, while Benny spoons in closer against Dean's back.

Cas blinks twice and disentangles, scrambles backward off the bed to hover awkwardly at the edge of the mattress. "I should - " he says, pausing. "I should go," he says, making an abortive motion towards the door like he's like he's forgotten that he's a) still naked, b) covered in bodily fluids from three different sources, and c) an angel capable of teleporting anywhere.

"Stay," Dean says, lazily patting the bed. It takes about all the energy in his body.

"I should -" Cas says.

"You should do like the man said and stay," Benny says. "Cuddling is mandatory."

Dean snorts, because did Benny really have to put it like that? - but he lazily waves his arm at the deliberately angel-sized empty space they've left, trying to act casual, to belie the nerves shivering in his body. "Cas," he says. "Get your ass over here. Everything means _everything_."

"Oh," Cas says. Cas flops in and is somehow both stiff and like an awkward octopus with limbs everywhere, but Dean pushes and prods and arranges until somehow all of their limbs line up (and Dean's not entirely sure that Cas didn't poof part of his body into a pocket dimension or something to make it work).

"Everything?" Cas whispers, forehead pressed to Dean's, one leg tangled between Dean and Benny's.

"Yeah, dumbass," Dean says, fond. "Everything." Benny sweeps the blanket over them, and Dean settles, boneless and sated and safe, between them. 

"It was not the oxytocin," Cas says, eyes half-closed like he can't figure out if he should look away. "That made me say that I --"

Benny snorts. "No one thought it was the oxytocin."

Dean, who wasn't entirely sure that 'I love you' wasn't actually something that Cas just says during sex, pinches Benny's flank. 

"I love you too," Dean says, tucking Cas in closer against him, or maybe what he means is 'I love you two.' Cas, who still looks kind of shell-shocked, looks like he's rebooting, murmurs something about Dean's soul, and kisses the fingers of Benny and Dean's interlaced hand.

Dean is half asleep, tucked in tight between two people he - two people he loves, but his brain starts ticking at him. Benny sleeps some but Cas doesn't - are they going to end up staring blankly at each other over his shoulder? Is Cas going to sit at their table in the morning and watch Benny and Dean cooking breakfast?

Cas's forehead is against his. The scent of his skin still carries that metallic, shimmering undertone. "Everything," Cas says.

"Je t'aime," Benny whispers into the shell of Dean's ear, and "we got you," and "sleep," and Dean does.


End file.
